Kris in Notts

On a few occasions, we have received a gift cheque from one of my husband’s US family members. Of course there’s a downside to a cheque… because… dunh DUNH dunh… one must deposit it.

Now, for some blessed reason or other, one bank that we have an account in back in the U.S. accepts scanned cheques. Great. Except that bank’s internet system is so persnickety about how the scan is done that, at some point in the process, I inevitably find myself yelling at the computer with my middle finger towards the screen. Take that customer service! %$&”! Only when my blood pressure has reached a new all-time high will the system accept said item.

This is not to mention the other human made foibles that complicate the process. First among these, my husband’s family loves to write cheques directly in our infant son’s name. This would be cute—and probably the right thing to do—in 1950s America.  What does the 21^st century bank think? Why doesn’t your toddler have his signature on file? (Imagine a handprint done in finger paint on my scanner, with a Cheerio topper, please.) What do we think: for a post-modern couple living in a new-ish country with a new-ish kid, this cheque in the kid’s name is SO overwhelming. It establishes more questions than answers: Sure, we should get the kid a bank account. Where (what country/bank in said country) should we get said account? What does establishing this account, wherever that happens, mean for the kid and national identity? If we open the account in one country, can we ever really close it and move to another country?

And then, of course, there’s the other human foible side. You know, like someone thinks they are being celebratory when they fill out a cheque in red ink. But, you know that the internet system is thinking? Red ink means it’s a bill to be paid.

My own family rarely sends moola (I forgive you people, today). So they seem less like troublemakers.

Kris: My tomato plants are not doing so well. I think it is the cold.

Nice person: You can put little fleece jumpers on them to keep them warm.

Kris: Sounds like my tomatoes are doomed.

Cab driver: Well, Duck, I suppose the economy is such that no one can afford to just take courses on Beach and Sand Management.

Film Studies Student: I love your office, it is so austere.

Kris: Uh, thanks.

Film Studies Student: Thank you for letting me film my project in it. I really loved the blank walls and the way echoes project across the room. It has a really hollow effect.

Kris: Well, the good news is that I’m moving offices today… into the glass fishbowl over there. It’s sort of smelly because it was part of an old shoe factory, but it looks a lot nicer. I’ll be able to hang up some of my framed Cuban posters and get a lot more sunlight.

Film Studies Student: Oh, I’m sorry. That’s sad.

Kris: Hmm… Yes. Thanks.

For my job, I take my MA-level students to visit a number of photographic archives. Many of these archives present different bureaucratic challenges for entrance. For example, the Royal Collecton at Windsor involves a security clearance that needs to be done in advance. Fine. HRH is on top of things and she has her guard doing this online.

On Friday, a prestigious institution called me up and said that it was unlikely that in the 100-page entrance treatise available online that my MA students qualified for access to the institution’s archive. Therefore, I’ll need to submit a letter explaining the special circumstances for their entrance and they will each be sent a letter of admission. Each student must then present said letter to security in order to gain access. For Pete’s sake people. If this all comes together: A. I’ll be shocked, and B. I still don’t understand: why is a library working so hard to exclude people?

During our repeat visits to the pool, I seem to have taught 1.5 year old Sam to sing the attack theme music from ‘Jaws’.

Duh nuh… duh nuh… duh nuh… nuhNUHnuhNUHnuhNUH-AUGH!

This is often succeeded by me saying: I got you!!!

I’m pretty sure that: 1. I need to start thinking a little less horror-film-like for the benefit of the child, 2. The smiles we’re getting from other adults in the pool are not necessarily of approval.